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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27358060">Mine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/doberainbow/pseuds/doberainbow'>doberainbow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Witcher Prompts [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Geralt is a pretty-wolf, Gift Fic, Human Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Prompt Fic, Werewolf Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, small make out scene, tiny scent kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:42:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,319</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27358060</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/doberainbow/pseuds/doberainbow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ve never listened to you, Darling. Do you think I will start it now?” The brunet asked softly and slowly, oh so fucking gradually reached to put his warm palm on the back of Geralt’s hand.</p><p>His skin was stone-cold and dirty. From this close, Jaskier could see the blood under his claws. His own blood. The young man had to bit his bottom lip to stop it from trembling.</p><p>“Jaskier…” Came the wail and Geralt tried to retreat, but this time Jaskier was fast enough to hold his strong forearm.</p><p>“Let me see!” He asked quietly with a smile and wrapped both of his hands over the mutant’s skin. “Please!”<br/>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>Werewolf!Geralt and Human!Jaskier</p><p>prompt fic for the absolutely incredible @Akikofuma</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Witcher Prompts [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971496</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>213</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akikofuma/gifts">Akikofuma</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello my dudes, </p><p>another prompt fic for the amazing @Akikofuma!</p><p>Before you start reading this I have to tell you that I DO NOT KNOW NOTHING about the werewolves in the Witcher universe so just ignore it if I made some mistakes with these beautiful creatures!</p><p>Now enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They say there are three determinative and truly crucial moments in a person’s life.</p><p>First, the day you were born.</p><p>The second, when you meet the love of your life.</p><p>The third, the day of your death.</p><p>Jaskier always thought and hoped that life was more than that, and if that was all this journey called life was holding out for him, he might as well just die right now.</p><p>No.</p><p>Julian Alfred Pankratz was too stubborn to only have three memorable occasions. He was also too full of life and love and spirit to be this simple and awfully dull. He decided that he will have a significant moment in every single day of his life.</p><p>But now, looking back in time, he has to bitterly admit it; he only had three definite, important points in his life.</p><p>
  <em>The day he met him. The day he found out. And the day he asked for it.</em>
</p><p>The day he met Geralt was a story well known by everyone. He wrote songs about it. He sang them over and over again all over the Continent. It became a legend. The White Wolf and his Bard.</p><p>
  <em>But the day when Jaskier find out was something they never shared with anyone.</em>
</p><p>A secret so precious to him, he never even thought about trying to make it a song and earn coins with it.</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier will always remember the first time he saw Geralt turn. The witcher managed to hide it from him for six whole months. Six months of travelling together, sleeping together, sharing rooms and baths and fears and adventures. Six full moons went unnoticed. Six times when Geralt could somehow sneak out of the cave, field, tavern they shared. Six times he came back looking like absolute shite and managed to talk himself out of it. And Jaskier believed him.</p><p>Oh, how naïve and silly the brunet was.</p><p>He should have seen the signs.</p><p>He should have noticed. He should have seen how tense the mutant was when the day was near. How hypersensitive Geralt grew with time. He barely talked. He hissed at anything. He was fidgety. He was so quiet. So… so bloody quiet even Jaskier started to whisper around him.</p><p>How he didn’t see it coming was a mystery? But he could never forget the time when all the little missing, broken pieces came together, and Jaskier breath hitched in his throat.</p><p>It was one of those days again. They were travelling through a forest on foot. Roach was walking behind them, carrying most of their belongings without a word. Bless her.</p><p>Jaskier had his lute dangling on his back, heavily pulling on his shoulder, while Geralt was marching in front of him with his sword over his back. His steps were hurried and long. It was early November. Not cold enough to be uncomfortably chilly, but it was enough to see Geralt’s breath in the air, like small clouds. The brunet’s cheeks prickled from the light wind. He kept looking at that broad back. Something was wrong.</p><p>The witcher was rushing. They were walking all day, even Roach was tired, and she kept making these little frustrated puffs, yet the mutant was storming on the path, stirring up the dust on the road with his boots.</p><p>Jaskier frowned at him and cleared his throat, trying to get the silver-haired monster hunter’s attention.</p><p>There was no response, just another flinch of that tensed backside.</p><p>“Geralt, my Dear friend, am I missing something? Do you have a rendezvous you forgot to mention? Are we running to war?” Jaskier called after him because matching the speed of the witcher’s steps was an impossible task.</p><p>The brunet’s voice caught Geralt’s ears, and he looked over his shoulder. Maybe it was the sunset, perhaps it was the angle, but his eyes seemed to be brighter, more golden than usual. Jaskier shook his head.</p><p>“What are you babbling about, bard?” Came the rough sound, and immediately, the toothy grin was back on Jaskier’s young face.</p><p>“What I’m trying to say is that I do really appreciate your long legs, Geralt. Honestly. Piece of work. But back here, Roach and I are kind of getting tired of running after you. Right, Girl?” He looked over to see Roach flick her ears and huff. “Exactly. So. Are we late from something?”</p><p>This friendly bantering and flirting were now typical between the two. Jaskier teased, and Geralt let him. First, six months ago, when the brunet started to follow the mutant around, he tested the waters. He kept verbally poking the witcher and see how far he can go.</p><p>Geralt at first was trying to fight back, but sadly, he found out very fast that the young troubadour liked it when they got into an argument. He had that smug smirk on his rosy lips when the witcher got worked up, and the mutant quickly changed his tactics.</p><p>He let Jaskier compliment him. Even if it irked him in an uncomfortable way. Not truly uncomfortable, more like in a foreign and unknown way. But it was a pleasant change after all the terrified screams and horrid glares Geralt usually get from folks.</p><p>“Geralt? Are you listening? Are those witchery ears and super-hearing are giving up on you?”</p><p>“I can hear you, bard, loud and clear. The whole kingdom can.” Geralt muttered under his breath and earned a hearty chuckle from the musician.</p><p>“So, where are you running?”</p><p>“Somewhere safe.”</p><p>Geralt grunted and let that half information hang in there without any further explanation.</p><p>The witcher could feel <em>it </em>crawling inside him. The tug and pull of the Full Moon. The way he was too small and way too big in his own skin. His gum was itching. His fangs wanted to grow out and carve into flesh. His fingers curled up into a fist, his claws wanted to split his skin and rip apart something… or someone.</p><p>Geralt hissed. They needed to hurry. They had to find a place where they can build a makeshift camp, and he had to make sure that Jaskier was deeply asleep before he lets his monster roam free. He looked over his shoulder to see the bardling.</p><p>The barely adult brunet was scribbling into his notebook. His tongue poked out of his pink lips as he wrote. The mutant felt his gaze caress that lithe body, and his heart started to beat faster. He felt cold sweat ran down his spine under his armour.</p><p>Geralt looked away with a snarl.</p><p>“Hurry up, bard!”</p><p> </p><p>The witcher was unusually snappy with him. He kept pushing Jaskier’s hands away as he tried to help him set up <em>their</em> tent. It was <em>theirs</em> because Geralt said one is good enough for them, and the poet didn’t argue. He adored every second he could spend close to the white-haired man. Even if it was just shyly stolen looks of his sleeping face in a dark tent.</p><p>Jaskier knew he was in love with Geralt since the first time the man asked the elves to spare his life. Back then, when he was tied to the witcher, back to back, knowing him only for less than a few hours, bound and beaten up, there his heart swelled up with warmness when an absolute stranger tried to save his life. Even back then, he knew that he would, and he will follow this man anywhere.</p><p>That was half a year ago, and Jaskier fell for the cranky monster-hunter each day more and more. His feelings were like how weed is taking over a garden. Impossible to fight against. Spreading like a sickness without cure, and the bard just sat back and let it tangle around his heart, grew over his soul, climb into his head, and bloom.</p><p>He was watching as Geralt tried to stack up the firewood without any success. The witcher’s hands were trembling. Not from the cold air, the mutant barely ever felt the cruel weather. No. It was something else Jaskier didn’t know yet, but he saw it torture Geralt.</p><p>“Fuck.” The small curse fell through those tightly pressed lips, and the brunet was already on his feet, walking to the man, kneeling next to him slowly.</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, I will finish this.” He said quietly, and he gently wrapped his long fingers around strong wrists.</p><p>Geralt froze and inhaled deeply. Jaskier watched as his pupils expanded, and the witcher visibly shook. The shiver that ran through him was fast and powerful.</p><p>“Are you alright?” The brunet’s voice was tender. He carefully squeezed Geralt’s arms to get his attention until those amber eyes found his blue ones. He smiled. Softly, reassuring the man that he is here, whatever bothers him, Jaskier is here to listen, here to help, here to give, here to love.</p><p>“I’m fine.” Came the short, breathy answer and the poet let out a tiny, genuine laugh.</p><p>“You don’t have to be, you know? Be fine all the time. You are allowed to feel bad; sometimes, you don’t always have to be strong and put together, Geralt. Look at me. I’m a mess most of the time, and I do just fine.”</p><p>Geralt studied his face as he talked, and after a second, Jaskier realised how close they were. How their shoulders touched, how he still held the witcher’s wrists, and how he could feel the mutant’s breath on his face. For a second, the young musician let his mind wonder what would happen if he would move closer. If he would slide his hands higher and maybe hold Geralt’s neck or face.</p><p>But he didn’t. The mutant looked away, breaking the eye contact, and shaking off Jaskier’s fingers.</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t, and it was rather obvious. The brunet tried to keep the conversation light-hearted. Well, not really a conversation, more like the stories he told, but it seemed that each time he looked at the man, the witcher was quivering. Geralt kept staring into the small fire they had built between them. The Sun was nearly gone. It was nothing more than an orange line on the horizon, and the witcher kept looking up at the sky as if he was waiting for something to fell on them.</p><p>It came out of nowhere. Geralt just stood up like if he was pulled on strings. His whole body was stiff. His eyes were wide and worried.</p><p>“You should go to sleep.” He said, and his voice was strained. Nothing more than a whisper. Jaskier scowled at him and threw a small rock into the fire.</p><p>“Sure, Mother.” He giggled and rolled his eyes with a shrug.</p><p>“Jaskier!” Geralt snarled, and the brunet nearly yelped at the harsh, loud tone. “Go inside the tent! Now!”</p><p>The poet stood up quickly, pulling the blanket tighter over his body, looking around them, between the trees and bushes.</p><p>“A-are we in danger? Is something coming? Geralt, what-”</p><p>“Do not come out! No matter what you hear. Stay inside!”</p><p>“Geralt you-”</p><p>“NOW!”</p><p>The witcher never shouted at him like that before. The brunet felt the blood turn cold in his veins. Geralt’s shoulders were shaking. The mutant was panting, and Jaskier could swear he heard him growl. They shared a tense moment. Both of them just glaring at the other before the witcher shut his eyes and winced.</p><p>“Please!” That one word was hissed through his sharp teeth, and Jaskier shivered. Geralt was begging, not with words but with those yellow eyes. He looked like someone who would fell on their knees at any moment and scream in pain. It scared the bard. It honestly terrified him.</p><p>Whatever, whoever scared the witcher like this was lurking around them, and Geralt decided to go against it alone.</p><p>“P-please be safe!” Jaskier asked, and Geralt only gave him a stern nod before the poet hurried into the tent and tied it together to protect him from the wind.</p><p>He heard how leaves crunched, twigs snapped under Geralt’s boots as the witcher walked around the camp before he left. His steps were swallowed by the forest, and Jaskier only heard the crackling of the fire.</p><p>He sat there, hugging himself for what seemed like hours. Trying to listen for anything, but he only heard the animals waking up around them. The night started to become noisy, and Jaskier felt so alone for the first time since he travelled with Geralt.</p><p>“What an idiot.” Jaskier mumbled as he laid back on his cold bedroll. He curled up on his side and furrowed his eyebrows, glaring at Geralt’s empty place. “Bloody witcher.” He huffed and decided to steal the mutant’s blanket if he chose to play the hero and start a fight with some monster in the middle of a gloomy forest.</p><p>The poet tugged the blanket towards himself, and when the fluffy fabric finally landed on him, Jaskier’s eye caught something shiny hiding under them.</p><p>Geralt’s swords.</p><p>Both of them laid there like an old couple hugging each other.</p><p>“Fuck!” The poet sat up so quickly the whole teeny tent shook around him. “That idiot! What is he going to do? Rip them apart with his bare hands? What a fucking plank!”</p><p>The grip of the swords was familiar in his palms. He carried them many times. Even wielded them once, but he would rather forget that. It was an embarrassing memory. Even though if it was the first time he ever seen the witcher truly laugh.</p><p>Jaskier was running. The cool, hard ground was loud under his feet. He was holding the silver and steel against his chest. The blanket fell off his shoulders somewhere or maybe got caught up on a tree branch. He couldn’t care less. He had to find Geralt before it was too late!</p><p>“Geralt!”</p><p>Jaskier called his name over and over. He felt like he is running in circles. He was breathing in so much cold air he was sure he will have no voice the next day. He lost his sense of direction. He twisted and turned. Could no longer see their tiny campfire. It was only the Moon shining on them.</p><p>At that moment, he was grateful for the Full Moon, giving him enough light to see the forest.</p><p>“Geralt where-”</p><p>Jaskier nearly dropped everything when he heard a howl.</p><p>It was one of those upset, guttural wolf howls that were always in children’s tales. The one that shook you to your core. The one that spooked away all the birds from the crowns of the trees.</p><p>“Geralt, please, if you can hear me just-”</p><p>“Jaskier?”</p><p>The voice was so raw behind him; the bard jumped with a squeak.</p><p>He barely recognised his own name as Geralt said it. If it was Geralt. Jaskier couldn’t really tell because the figure was in the shade, hidden by darkness and the night.</p><p>“G-Gods Geralt!” The poet groaned as he blinked twice to clear his vision and caught a glimpse of golden eyes and silver hair. Jaskier sighed and started to walk towards the man. “You forgot your swords, and I heard a howl so-”</p><p>“DON’T!”</p><p>The witcher growled and stumbled backward, nearly disappearing entirely in the darkness. Jaskier stopped. A confused frown on his young face as the Moon was covered by some clouds, making it harder to see anything.</p><p>“Geralt, it’s just me. What are you doing? You need your swords to fight that… whatever is that thing.” The brunet smiled, but when he took a wary step, the mutant kept the distance.</p><p>“You take them. Use them if you need to.” Geralt’s voice was raggedy like as if he dragged through his vocal cords on stones for miles. Jaskier never heard him like that before. He sounded like being on the verge of a breakdown, like someone who fought back their tears over and over again.</p><p>“Geralt, as much as I appreciate your beliefs in my fighting skills, I think both of us would be better off if you would use the swords. Please, just-”</p><p>Jaskier couldn’t finish his sentence because Geralt dropped to his knees with a cry. His whole body was shaking vigorously, and the poet was running towards him.</p><p>“Stay back!” Geralt lifted his head to shout, and that’s when Jaskier’s heart missed a beat, and he dropped the swords from his grasp to clutch his palms over his mouth.</p><p>The witcher’s face changed. His amber eyes were glowing like embers. His naturally pointy canines turned into fangs so big they curled over his bottom lip. He wasn’t wearing his armour anymore. Only the black tunic hung on him in shreds. He had several claw marks across his torso, and blood was slowly running down on his snow-white skin.</p><p>“Please!” That single word was a pained whine before Geralt dropped his head and groaned. He was on his hands and knees. Claws digging deep into the cold ground like a hot knife slicing through butter. His body was jerking as he tried to stay in a human form. His toned back was flexing from the monster inside him.</p><p>Jaskier felt his tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. Throat so dry and tight, he couldn’t swallow back the whimper that burst out of him.</p><p>“Gods, Geralt!” His chest ached as he saw the man try to shy away from his eyes. Hide behind those dishevelled white locks as they fell over his face.</p><p>“Jaskier, just go. Please! I’m fine.”</p><p>“You are not fine, you arse! What the hell are you doing out here suffering alone? Let me-”</p><p>“Stay away, bard!” Geralt tried to move away but couldn’t. His body weighed tons from the sheer power of the wolf inside him. He couldn’t move a muscle, not even as Jaskier slowly approached him and kneeled on the grass in front of him.</p><p>“I’ve never listened to you, Darling. Do you think I will start it now?” The brunet asked softly and slowly, oh so fucking gradually reached to put his warm palm on the back of Geralt’s hand.</p><p>His skin was stone-cold and dirty. From this close, Jaskier could see the blood under his claws. His own blood. The young man had to bit his bottom lip to stop it from trembling.</p><p>“Jaskier…” Came the wail and Geralt tried to retreat, but this time Jaskier was fast enough to hold his strong forearm.</p><p>“Let me see!” He asked quietly with a smile and wrapped both of his hands over the mutant’s skin. “Please!”</p><p>“You don’t want to do that!” Geralt snarled, still not raising his head to look at the grinning bard.</p><p>“Well, let me be the judge of that. Please, Dear. Let me see you, Geralt!”</p><p>His palms were moving lazily up on that thick arm. Muscles shook under his touch. Broad shoulder tightened from his soft caress.</p><p>Geralt’s long hair tickled Jaskier’s hand as he reached under the witcher’s chin, cupping his jaw in between his palm and kindly lifted his head.</p><p>Terrified honey-coloured eyes looked at him and saw Jaskier’s smile soften.</p><p>“Oh, Love, you are unjustly gorgeous!” He chuckled and carefully started to tug the loose white locks behind Geralt’s wolf-like, fluffy ears. “My Dear Wolf, how did this happened?” He asked quietly when the man closed his eyes and leaned into his palms, letting himself enjoy the touch for a moment.</p><p>“Got bitten years ago. I can control it because of my mutation. Sort of.” He murmured hastily in that husky voice of his, and Jaskier couldn’t help but giggle.</p><p>“I have to disappoint you, Dear Heart. You might think you are monstrous, but you have a lisp, and it’s adorable.” Jaskier saw that wee smile tug on those flush, red lips before the witcher’s tried to hide it.</p><p>“I can literally rip your throat out with my teeth, bard!”</p><p>“Mhm. What a way would that be to go. What a way indeed.” He hummed, and now the mutant actually snorted, straightening up and sitting back on his heels. Jaskier moved with him. Not letting go of his handsome face. Loving how the silky hair tangled in between his fingers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”</p><p>“Tell you what? That I’m a monster when you try to prove it to everyone I’m not?”</p><p>“What monster? Are you mad? I’m only seeing a man willing to endure this torture alone to save his friend from the knowledge that he likes to howl at the Full Moon.” Jaskier babbled with a frown, and Geralt looked deep into those cornflower-blue eyes.</p><p>“A friend?” He asked with an arched eyebrow, and Jaskier blinked at him for a second before he felt the blush creep upon his cheeks.</p><p>“Well. After all this time, I hope we are friends.”</p><p>“You called me <em>Love</em>.” Geralt reminded him with a smirk, and now the poet felt the real burn in the apples of his cheeks.</p><p>“J-just a figure of speech. You know me. I like showing affection and-”</p><p>Jaskier couldn’t finish his sentence, and he was somehow grateful for that because he knew he was just about to make a fool out of himself.</p><p>No.</p><p>Geralt’s clawed hands grabbed his hips, and he was dragged and lifted into the witcher’s lap. His legs clumsily wrapped around the mutant’s muscular waist as he shrieked from the sudden tug.</p><p>“You know I can smell it on you, right? I can smell your lust from miles away, Jaskier. The way you look at me. The way your heart beats faster. What thoughts you have in our pretty little head of yours.” Geralt whispered with a groan as their chest pushed together, and he felt the bard’s scared, frantic breaths on his lips.</p><p>“G-Geralt, I’m not… I wasn’t…”</p><p>“Don’t lie to me, <em>Love</em>!” The witcher laughed. His fangs caught the silver light of the Moon before everything went pitch-black for Jaskier as Geralt sealed his lips with a hungry kiss.</p><p>He remembered how his whole body shivered when he felt sharp, bladelike canines slit up and bite into his tender flesh. He remembered how his own blood tasted on Geralt’s tongue. How cold he was until the witcher lifted him and snaked those thick, lethal arms around him. He remembered how hoarse Geralt’s voice was as he kept repeating his name. How many times he called Jaskier his beautiful songbird. How the witcher ripped off his clothes and how the tree trunk he was pushed against left red marks all over his back.</p><p>That night was ten years ago. Ten years of adventuring with his White Wolf.</p><p>Ten years exactly.</p><p>Jaskier marked that day in his notebook. The date was engraved into his brain as the second most important moment of his life, and today… well, today will be the third one.</p><p>They were sharing a room again as they always did in the last decade. Jaskier was still hot and slightly damp from the bath he took earlier. Geralt’s grey tunic was sticking to his chest and back while it hung loosely around his hip. And because he was a tease, he was not wearing absolutely anything else, just perfume.</p><p>He heard the witcher leave the tub. His wet feet were making noises as he came around to their room where the bed was.</p><p>Jaskier could never get enough of this man. The way he stood there in the candlelight, dripping wet, hair in a messy bun because Jaskier tied it up for him before the bath. It was one of the things he grew to love. Tying up Geralt’s silver locks only to let it curl beautifully when it dries, and he lets it down on his shoulders. It made his mouth water.</p><p>Geralt only had a loosely wrapped towel around his hips as he walked around, carrying his armour to a chair, placing it carefully down before Jaskier scolds him for not taking care of his clothes. The way he moved and his scars danced over his pale skin, and toned muscles made Jaskier’s skin itch.</p><p>“Tease.” He smirked and earned an amused look from the witcher.</p><p>“And what does that makes you then?” Geralt asked back with a grin, finishing whatever he was doing in his pack elbow deep, turning around to walk to his lover on the bed.</p><p>Jaskier climbed onto his knees as the mutant stopped in front of him. They were nearly the same high like this, and he lazily smoothed his heated palms on that flat, scarred stomach, loving how Geralt shivered under his touch.</p><p>“Unbearably turned on.” Jaskier snickered, and Geralt pressed a kiss on his forehead with a smile. “You know what day is today?” The bard asked with a whisper as the mutant started to press his lips on the poet’s hairline, eyelids, temple, and everywhere he could.</p><p>“Enlighten me.” Geralt rumbled so deeply the brunet could feel it in his own chest.</p><p>“Well, My Wolf, on this day, exactly ten years ago, I stumbled upon you in the dark forest and awkwardly admitted that I love you, fangs, or not.”</p><p>“Hm. Was it already ten years ago?” Geralt smiled and reached to hold Jaskier’s right hand in his palms, leaving the other as it wandered over his sides, blunt nails slightly scratching his skin.</p><p>“It was. I’m blessing you with my glorious company for a decade now. Sing about your heroic tales and beauty. Call you, My White Wolf.”</p><p>“Yours?” Geralt asked back with a grin, and Jaskier just eagerly nodded as he pressed a kiss on those unfairly pillowy lips. The brunet felt as the witcher caressed his fingers in his hold one by one, running his fingertips over his knuckles. “Jaskier?”</p><p>“Yes, Darling?” The poet asked back, but he wasn’t really paying attention. He was too busy nipping an angry-red mark on Geralt’s collarbone.</p><p>“I want to call you mine.” Spoke the mutant with a groan when the brunet licked into the dip where his neck met his shoulder.</p><p>“I’m yours, Dear. Are you not listening? I’m yours for ten years now.” Jaskier kept breathing into his skin, but suddenly the mutant pulled back, and he whined miserably.</p><p>“I want to call you <em>mine</em> for the rest of my life, Jaskier.” Geralt said softly, and the brunet blinked up at him in awe. He was so impossibly gorgeous. The witcher smiled and looked down, where he held the poet’s right hand. Blue eyes followed his gaze, and for the first time in his life, Jaskier had nothing to say.</p><p>There was a silver ring on his finger. Geralt’s thumb gently played with the metal as he waited for the bard to realise what was happening.</p><p>The ring had a tiny wolf-head carved into it. It was simple yet elegant and utterly marvellous.</p><p>“Oh, Gods.” Jaskier inhaled sharply, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the delicate jewellery. “You remembered?” He asked in a choked voice as he looked up to his witcher.</p><p>“Of course, I did. How could I forget?”</p><p>Geralt’s gentle laugh was the last straw. Jaskier started to cry. Big, happy tears rolled down on his pale cheeks, and the witcher was there to smear each and every single drop away with his hands.</p><p>His cried turned into moans later on. He kept groaning each time he lifted his hips to meet Geralt’s thrust. He whined when the man held his hand and pressed a kiss onto his ring, looking into hazy, half-lidded blue eyes.</p><p>Jaskier screamed his lover’s name so loud he was sure everyone in the tavern knew precisely who he belonged to.</p><p> </p><p>A few hours later, they laid in the bed. Geralt was on his back and the bard on his chest, drawing silly little circles around a scar that was shaped like a four-leaf clover. The room became so hot from their heated bodies the witcher had to crack the window open, and now they both enjoyed the soft November breeze on their flushed skin.</p><p>Jaskier was so stunned by Geralt’s proposal he nearly forgot why he was so excited about tonight in the first place. What was he planning to ask for from the silver-haired man.</p><p>“I think I want it somewhere </p><p>hidden. Just right here.” He said quietly out of nowhere as he patted his own shoulder. Geralt opened his golden eyes and pushed himself up against the headboard with a frown. Jaskier sat up next to him, pulling the cover around his waist.</p><p>“Want what?”</p><p>“The bite.” The poet said matter-of-factly with a grin. Geralt’s face paled, and his eyebrows rose up on his forehead, lips hanging open from surprise. “Before you say anything, please let me explain myself.” Jaskier chuckled and tilted his head to the side, waiting until the witcher stiffly nodded.</p><p>“I’m twenty-nine years of age, and I feel perfectly splendid. I’m adored by the love of my life. I’m adored by the crowds, and I’m beautiful as ever.”</p><p>“Don’t forget; humble.” Geralt grunted, and Jaskier sent him a wicked grin.</p><p>“That too, of course. What I’m trying to say is that I want to stay like this. I don’t want to be some old, weak man by your side in a few years.”</p><p>“Jaskier’s I don’t care if you-”</p><p>“I know. I know you don’t care if I’m young and my arse is perky or if I’m old and… ugh. No. That won’t happen. Geralt, I want to stay like this for at least a few more decades. With you. For us.”</p><p>“But-”</p><p>“I know one day I will die, but werewolves age a hundred times slower than humans. Love, I want to spend centuries with you, and who could keep me safer than you, My Witcher? Who could teach me better how to control myself than you, My Wolf?”</p><p>“You want to become a monster for me?” Geralt whispered and reached for Jaskier’s hands.</p><p>“I would become a troll or a ghoul for you, Darling, if it gives me more time with you.” The poet laughed loudly, but the witcher didn’t join him. The man looked fearful and confused. He stared at the bard as if he tried to save this memory and lock it somewhere inside his head.</p><p>“You don’t have to answer now. Please take your time and think about it, but I want you to know that I want this. I want the bite. I want it for years now. I was just too scared to ask for it, but I’m not anymore.” Jaskier said kindly and moved to lay on his side.</p><p>Geralt was still sitting for a few more minutes before he laid down, curled around the brunet, and pullet the blanket up on them, wrapping one arm over narrow hips. His chest pushed against the bard’s bare back. Their legs tangled together.</p><p>He pressed a kiss on Jaskier’s freckled shoulder, and the musician just happily cooed.</p><p>The poet didn’t see the way Geralt took a shaky breath before he opened his mouth wide, letting his inhumanly sharp fangs out. Jaskier only felt the sharp pain as those teeth sank into his flesh deeply, nearly hitting the bone under his muscle.</p><p>His scream was muffled by a strong hand, and the mutant quickly pulled away. Lapping up the blood from soft skin, pressing kisses on the already healing wound.</p><p>“G-Geralt?” Jaskier shook from the sudden attack. The shock was making his body tremble as he looked over to the witcher. Even though he was hurting, he had a tired smile on his lips.</p><p>“Mine.” The witcher hummed. Lips red from blood. “My Bard.” He planted a kiss on the fading bite mark. The werewolf curse was immediately healing the wound on Jaskier’s body. “My Lover.” He pressed his lips against the brunet’s long neck, earning a shaky moan with it. “My Wolf.” He breathed into the poet’s ear and chuckled as a beautiful laugh left his lover’s mouth.</p><p>“Yours!”</p><p> </p><p>~~~~</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>well that was it.</p><p>What do you think? Please tell me, even if it just one word, I would love to hear it!</p><p>And see you all next time &lt;3</p><p>Kisses!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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